Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NOW
I spend the next five days in hiding, locked in my room and content to forget about the life that goes on without me.
Without Jason.
Even knowing the truth, I still find myself missing him, wondering what it’s like wherever he is . . . wondering if he’s at peace.
I quietly teeter between a dangerous level of anxiety and self-loathing and a full-body numbness that blankets over it all.
I know I’m experiencing a catastrophic loss, not just from Jason’s death but also in the smoke and mirrors of our relationship. And I’m not sure I’ll ever feel ready to subject myself to the people of this town—not after what happened at Wild Coyote. I also can’t bear to hash things out with my mom again. My room is the only place that feels safe, the only place I can sit with my thoughts and try to rationalize the whirlwind that has become my life.
Grief and shame burn along the corners of my mind like edges of a paper, always there but never quite swallowing me whole. I wish they would, if I’m being honest. At least it would be productive—I’d have something to show for my time beyond my swollen eyelids and the crumbs on my mattress from the crackers I eat to appease my mother, who’s taken to standing on the other side of the door to listen to the wrapper crinkle as I eat.
I hear Barry leave for the office each morning, not to return home again until dinnertime. Mom moves around the house, getting Annie to and from school and doing whatever else it is she does to occupy her time. I hear her on the phone a lot, the town’s gossip train in full force, especially when it comes to me.
She’s worried about me—I know she is. And I love her for it. But we’ve never seen eye to eye, so I’m not sure what shared ground exists between us and I’m too exhausted to fight about what comes next. I expect she’ll want me to take it on the chin, to grieve for an appropriate amount of time before getting back out there to start over. To find a suitor worthy of my future.
I’m not ready to hear any of her opinions. But as my restlessness increases, I can’t bear to look at my pale pink walls or my George Strait posters or—god forbid—the collage of photos I keep taped to my mirror that are full of Jason’s face.
Not for another second.
So when I hear my mother’s phone ring, when I hear her subsequently slip out the back door so she can take her call out of earshot in the safety of her garden, I get dressed and scurry down the stairs, grabbing her car keys from the foyer table and booking it out the door.
I wind my mother’s Mercedes up the long dirt road that leads to the ranch’s main house, filling the air with dust as the tires crunch on scattered rocks. There’s going to be hell to pay when I bring her car back home dirty, but I already feel a deep sense of relief in the distance I’ve put between me and the dark corners of my mind that have been holding me captive all week. It’s the first time I’ve felt the sun on my skin in days, the first time I’ve been outside to breathe in fresh air, and it loosens some of the barbed tension that’s clawed into my body.
I slow when I notice movement in one of the corrals. It’s the one closest to the house that’s predominantly used for the newer horses that are brought here to the ranch, the one Jason and I used to spend afternoons hanging out at, watching Wells and his brothers work.
A quick look back tells me it’s Wells who sits on the beautiful roan horse, his backward hat and broad shoulders a dead giveaway. Rhett and Kasey watch him from just outside the wooden fence, both wearing cowboy hats low over their eyes. It’s not until I beep the car locked with the fob that they all look my way.
I do my best not to let my nerves get the best of me as I make my way toward them, even though being here still feels wrong, somehow. I forgot how much I love the smell of the ranch. It’s rich with earth and grass and—despite the obvious traces of horse shit—it’s familiar in a way that a place like this can only be after it’s sunk deep into the fibers of your being.
I’d probably never admit it, but it’s my favorite place in Saddlebrook Falls. I’ve always felt so at home here, the worn buildings and wide-open fields becoming a place of refuge—even with Wells’s temperamental attitude toward me.
I used to chalk it up as a place where I could hide out and avoid going home, but now as my feet lead me toward the wide corral, I think it might have always been more than that. This ranch is tucked far enough away from the rest of town that I feel like I can get an honest-to-god deep breath in when I’m here. It’s a welcome reprieve from the constant scrutiny.
Not counting the night of Jason’s funeral last week, this is the first time I’ve been here since the summer before college. But nothing’s changed in the year and a half that I’ve been away—other than the realization that now I’m showing up alone.
It’s a thought that rips through me, a cutting awareness that I’m here without Jason. My steps falter as I question what I’m even doing here . . . Maybe this was a mistake. Glancing back at the lot behind me, I find that I’m only halfway to the trio of Bennetts—if I turn back now, I bet I can make it to the car before anyone has a chance to catch me.
But as I turn back around, I find Wells staring at me. His expression is almost unreadable, but there’s a curiosity there that sparks between us, and I’m suddenly moving toward him again. The horse he’s riding whinnies as she turns to trot away from the fence, and I can tell she’s anxious. She’s probably new here, but not so new that she’s trying to buck him off. It’s clear they’ve been putting in the work with her, because despite her trepidation she leans into Wells’s gentle direction as he steers her back toward the fence line.
I can feel Rhett and Kasey’s eyes on me, but I keep my focus on Wells as his lips turn up at the corners. I’m relieved that he doesn’t seem upset at my presence, but the relief is short-lived when I get a better look at his face.
His normally honeyed skin is pale, and the bruising under his eyes is so dark it has my stomach twisting. He isn’t sleeping. “Layla,” he says on an exhale before he clears his throat. “You’re here.”
The nerves in my stomach spike. “Yeah . . . sorry for just showing up like this, but I was hoping I could talk to you?”
His brown eyes dart to his brothers before landing back on me. “Sure.” He nods, swinging a leg over the horse’s back to jump down from the saddle. “Can you bring her in for me?” he asks Kasey. “I’ll run her out again before dark.”
I finally brave a look at the two men standing to my right and find them both watching me. Kasey nods as Rhett’s brow furrows, like he can’t figure out what good me being here will bring.
I don’t blame him.
Wells pushes open the built-in gate and hands the reins to his brother. And it strikes me again, how bad he looks. It’s obvious how much he’s struggling, and I’ve done nothing to extend any show of support like he’s done for me.
“How about a walk?” I ask, hoping to put a little distance between us and prying eyes.
He nods. “Okay.”
We take a few tentative steps toward the large field beyond the corral, eventually catching a rhythm in our stride. A few minutes of silence pass between us before I find the courage to break it. “I want to apologize,” I start, looking up at him.
He frowns. “Apologize?”
“Yes, about the other night. I . . . I didn’t carry myself well, and I was kind of a bitch to you. ”
“Layla.” He stops walking, and I have to turn to look back at him. There’s a fierce determination set in his jaw that surprises me. “ You , of all people, have nothing to apologize for.”
I shake my head, swallowing down a swell of nerves. “I’m not the only one who lost him.” It comes out as a whisper.
His head drops, and he stares at the ground for a handful of heartbeats. When he lifts his gaze to mine again, there’s emotion swimming in his eyes. “Can I show you something?”
My heart thumps in my throat where words are caught. All I can do is nod.
He tilts his head toward a new direction and I trail along beside him. The silence doesn’t feel as heavy as it did a moment ago, so I take the opportunity to look around the ranch as we move through it, taking it all in: the large white barn with painted black trim that looks a bit worse for wear; the three horses that graze in a second corral, all eyeing us curiously as we walk past; the way the land stretches so far in the distance I can’t make out the farthest point before it tangles with the incredibly blue sky.
Wells leads us toward the open pasture to the east of the house, and it’s then that I see her.
“Stardust,” I whisper, eyes wide in a burst of excitement that feels almost foreign to me at this point.
Wells lets out a soft breath of laughter and it’s almost rusty, like it might be his first attempt at a laugh in a long time. “There’s your girl, sunshine.”
She’s just as beautiful as I remember, grazing in the tall grass alongside a handful of other horses. “You still have her?” I can’t hide my shock—the Bennett ranch is a rescue ranch that takes in horses from all over the country, sometimes from other failing ranches or even from wild herds. The Bennetts work to rehabilitate them before ultimately selling them off. Most go to ethical dude ranches in Texas or surrounding states, but some have also been sold to nonprofits that provide equestrian therapy to mental health facilities or schools.
Wells promised me a long time ago that they wouldn’t break Stardust—I saw the wild beauty in her eyes and couldn’t bear to think of her submitting to anybody—but I always assumed they’d have her transferred out of here to a more permanent home. Most horses don’t stay here long, save for the horses the Bennetts keep for personal use.
“Yeah.” He adjusts the backward hat on his head before crossing his arms over his chest. “Kasey and I worked to transition this pasture to accommodate some of the mustangs. They normally don’t come this close to the fence line . . . they like to stay out there in the hills.” He points toward the distance, to a more natural landscape of small shrubs and scattered oak trees. “But I saw them here this morning, and now I can’t help but think she knew you’d be here.”
I look up and see a sliver of that vulnerability back. It’s in the way his lips press together as he waits for my response. It knocks me off-balance—I’ve spent years making room for his bristling. This quiet eagerness is something new, and I can’t help but wonder if it was there all along. “How long ago?”
The divot between his brows deepens. “What?”
“How long ago did you and Kasey turn this into a pasture for her? And the others,” I add.
He wipes a hand over his mouth. “I don’t know. Shortly after I made you that promise. Kasey only helped me because I threatened to tell our mom about his secret rodeo circuit—no one understands why I want to keep them here. But I wanted to keep my promise, and this was the only way I knew how.”
My chest squeezes. “You did this for me?”
The brown of his eyes seems to come alive. “For Stardust,” he amends, but the truth is all over his face, and I don’t know what to make of it.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I’ve been here so many times over the years, even taken rides out through this very pasture with him and Jason, and he never said a thing.
He shrugs. “I wasn’t sure how to without making it a big deal.”
I have to look away before I give him too much. Stardust lifts her head in our direction before whinnying and whipping her tail. The four other horses around her pause their own grazing to look up at her. “Hey girl,” I say quietly, as if she can hear me through the wind from all the way over here. “You look so good. Are you happy?”
She simply stares back at me, and I wish she could respond. I wish I could read her mind and know if it was worth it to stay unchained, to escape any attempts the Bennetts might have made to break her. Or would extending her trust to them to be taken care of for the rest of her life have been a relief?
“She is,” Wells murmurs as he watches her too. And then I feel the weight of his eyes on me again. “I’m competing in a rodeo in Fort Worth in a few days if . . . if you want to come.”
I let the words sink in. “Don’t you have to get back to school? The season isn’t over.” I can’t imagine going back to NYU this soon, but I know how rigorous his football schedule is. Despite everything Wells is going through, I’m sure there’s an expectation about his return to the field—playoffs start next week, only a week before Christmas. Even the holidays hardly stop the force that is college football.
He throws me an unreadable look before focusing back on the horses as his hands wrap around the wooden fence. “I’m not going back.”
What? “Like . . . ever?”
He shrugs. “I don’t see the point. My future is here, on the ranch with the horses. College feels like an unnecessary distraction.”
“What about the draft?”
Pain lances through his features. “That was Jay’s dream, not mine.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. There’s an uncomfortable twist in my chest at the mention of Jason—making it to the NFL was all he ever talked about. But I thought Wells wanted it too. I never imagined he might only be along for the ride.
To know he never wanted any of it for himself . . . I wonder if he would have gone through with the draft in the spring, or if he would have found a way to let Jason down easy.
“Are you going alone?” I ask, shifting focus back to his invitation.
He shakes his head. “Kasey is competing too. We’ll stay overnight and then drive back the next morning. We already have rooms booked, but I’m sure we can get a third one for you once we get there.”
If it were anyone else going with him, I think I’d probably decline. But Kasey already knows I was at the cabin the morning after the funeral, so what’s the harm in me tagging along for a quick rodeo trip? Getting out of this town for even a day would be a huge relief, and Wells must know that if he’s asking me.
I think back to my earlier apology, to the whole reason I came here. Here’s a chance to show him some support back.
“That sounds like exactly what I need,” I say honestly.
Wells’s mouth curves and I’m rewarded with a bright smile. A real one. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it, I almost forgot what it’s like.
He’s the only one in the world who, for the most part, can understand what this last week has been like for me—because he’s going through it too. Maybe if we lean into the pain together, we can make it to the other side a little lighter than if we were to go it alone.
I drape my arms over the fence and watch Stardust as she grazes, and for the first time since my world came crashing down around me, I feel a sense of hope.